


Moonlight

by orphan_account



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: CHAPTER TWO IS FINISHED OKAY LEAVE ME ALONE, Elf smut, M/M, also tiadrin's a loudmouth even though in canon i think that lain is the foxy one, had to do it at some point, i think, its ruthari week, yall thirsty bitches get off my back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Runaan and Ethari, unknowingly prompted by Tiadrin's suggestion, decide to meet at the Bay and fuck.
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Lain/Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 187





	1. Impromptu

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written a fic in ages but TDP had inspired me with much elf smut in mind. this is hopefully a segue to my soon-to-be second fic in the series, a rewrite chapter of whatthedubs's "Callum's Sexuality Crisis (TM)." If you have not read that, read it now. it's pure art.

“When are they coming?” Ethari asked for the third time. His eyes had not stopped moving in the some hour they’d been sat here, head flitting back and forth about the grove, seeking.

“I don’t know,” Runaan said, tense because Ethari was so plainly agitated. “They do this a lot.” 

“Do what?”

“This.” Runaan gave an impatient gesture to their surroundings. Around them, the grove teemed with life. In the Moonshadow lands, the world came to be at the stroke of dusk. The land was painted silver in moonlight, violet flowers blooming in greeting, animalian eyes and wings moving between the canopies. In the midst of it all, the nature and the beauty, two sour Moonshadow elves sat on the outskirts of Silvergrove, awaiting the arrival of their to-be companions.

“They make a plan,” Runaan continued, “and then they find some other task to get wrapped up in, either meeting you hours late or forgetting you entirely.”

“Oh.” Ethari stared off into the trees, face pensive.

Runaan looked back at him, the tense line of his brow, the set of his shoulders, and he frowned. “You’re nervous,” he stated.

Another elf would have made a snipped comment like  _ yes, how observant of you _ , but Ethari only looked back at him and nodded. 

“I am.”

Still frowning, Runaan scooted closer. They’d already been sitting shoulder to shoulder, but now their knees bumped and their arms pressed flush on every breath. “You shouldn’t be,” he said, sighing discreetly at the contact. Ethari ran hot.

“Why not?” Ethari demanded. “They’re your friends of twenty years. They’ve fought with you, bled with you. They’ve been there since the beginning. And I? I’ve known you how long? Four months?” Ethari shook his head. “In their mind, I’m nobody.”

Runaan shook his head. “You’re envisioning them all wrong. They’ll look to you as a brother, not an adversary. They’re not stern, or judgemental, or really very Moonshadow at all.” He chuckled fondly. “Odd, those two.”

Ethari didn’t seem convinced. “Runaan, they couldn’t be your friends if they were anything less than the epitome of a Moonshadow. You had a hard time with Jianna, and she spouts tripe about the Moon Mother every other sentence.”

“Jianna is a tart,” Runaan said primly. “Her honor is a farce. I’d sooner trust a viper than she.” 

“There, you see?” Ethari groaned. “If they’re anything like that, I’m as good as dead.”

“Like  _ Runaan _ ?” a voice said from the trees. “Don’t insult me before we’ve even met!”

Ethari’s head whipped around, but Runaan was already on his feet. Though his posture was tense, there was a clear fondness to his expression, in the way the lines around his mouth and eyes softened.

“We all know you say those things because you’re secretly jealous,” Runaan retorted, and Ethari marveled, because he’d never heard that note of playfulness in his voice. 

His heart lightened considerably when he saw the figures approaching, a she-elf in martial leathers with a face sharp as knives, and another, of broader form, further along the path, too far for his features to be distinguishable. Even still, Ethari could see he held the same corded muscles and whip-like strength to his body. The Dragonguard, it seemed, worked their prospectives even harder than the assassins of Silvergrove.

When the elf caught sight of them, she broke into a jog, bounding through the trees, dodging stray roots and branches, nimble as a cat.

Runaan stepped forward to greet her, a smile lighting his lips, but she swept right past him and plowed into Ethari.

Ethari, unprepared, let out a startled squeak and tried not to fall over as the elf, far heavier than expected, leveled him with an embrace that was better phrased as a “tackle” than a “hug.”

“ _ Oh _ . It’s so good to finally meet you,” Tiadrin said, then pulled back to inspect Ethari’s face. “You’re far more handsome than I thought you’d be, Runaan being a shovel-face and all.”

“Tiadrin, please,” Runaan began, but then Lain finally caught up, interrupting him before he could defend himself. He was only slightly out of breath from the near-vertical hike, and belatedly, Runaan wondered how Lain had made the Dragonguard with such poor stamina.

“It’s good to see you, Runaan,” Lain said warmly and took Runaan’s hand in his. 

“Yes.” Though he accepted the grip, Runaan couldn’t keep the bite from his voice. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten. As usual.”

“Sorry,” Lain said, and let his hand fall back to his side. He scratched at the back of his head, gaze turning sideways. “We got sidetracked.”

Tiadrin drew away from Ethari to scoff. Ethari took this opportunity to squirm away from her death grip. Tiadrin didn’t seem to notice. She said, “ _ Yeah _ , okay. Hey, fun fact about Lain: he’s apparently  _ really  _ into hair pull —”

“ _ Tia _ .” 

It was a calculated attack, on Lain’s part.

Tiadrin whirled on him so fast, Runaan almost couldn’t follow the motion. Her head was tilted just so, lips pressed into a line, and where had that dagger come from? She used it now to gesture at Lain’s groin, blade coming dangerously close to  _ certain areas _ . “Do  _ not _ call me that. Or I’ll remove something important of yours.”

“Ahm. Right. Sorry.” Lain’s expression made it clear he wasn’t really sorry, and when Tiadrin turned around, somehow satisfied with his shit apology, he winked at Runaan as if he’d done something clever. Ethari just looked confused.

Meanwhile, Runaan wished he could sink into the ground. “So do you have any other wonderful surprises to impress upon Ethari?” he said, reverting to sarcasm because how else could he stomach this horrible encounter?

“Actually, yes.” Tiadrin leaned in close, and Runaan braced himself. “Lain and I have been talking.”

“Tiadrin.” Lain’s voice was a warning.

“We have this bet.”

“Please don’t —”

Tiadrin shoved Lain aside and asked with a grin feral as a cat’s, “We were wondering, have you two visited the Bay yet?”

Runaan colored. 

The Bay, also known by its Draconian name  _ Lavacro _ , was a place for healers, priests, and lovers. The waters were said to have healing properties, for at the start of each month, the surface caught the new moon’s face in a perfect portrait. No one knew why, but upon entry, mortal wounds closed, restless hearts found peace, and ailments of the body, fatigue, hunger, thirst, faded to contentment. The mystery of the place was never fully uncovered, though an influx of arcanum-bound creatures, elves included, frequented the Bay during the new moon. 

The Bay, besides being a place of healing, was a place of spiritual awakening. When a pair of lovers entered the water together, their souls found solace in their partner’s, solidifying their love and their relationship forever. It wasn’t quite marriage, but…

Well.

Thus Tiadrin’s question, at face value innocent, was anything but. In fact, her insinuation left Runaan choking on his own spit. A glance at Ethari showed the smith was not doing much better, ducking his shoulders and smiling shyly. 

Lain, the bastard, only laughed.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Tiadrin said after a pause. Then, she grinned. “Though, really, the full moon is tomorrow, and that time Lain and I tried it, we found some  _ very  _ interesting perks —  _ agh! _ ”

Tiadrin stumbled backward, arms flailing, as Lain hauled her back by the horn, expression gone as mortified as Runaan’s. 

“We’ll be going now,” Lain called over his shoulder, face still flushed, dragging an indignant Tiadrin behind him. “I can see you need some time to yourselves, anyway.”

“Wait! We still haven’t asked if —”

Lain spread his lips in the falsest equivalent of a smile Runaan had ever seen. “Goodbye!” 

When they had disappeared behind the treeline, Runaan immediately turned to Ethari.

“I apologize on both their behalfs,” he said stiffly. “Tiadrin is sometimes...forthright, and their love is new enough that Lain does not question her.”

“Runaan.” 

Ethari’s voice brought him up short, the stream of excuses halting long enough for him to look up and meet a gaze like heated brandy. There was the faintest of smiles on his lips, enough for Runaan to see past the flush on his cheeks.

“I wouldn’t mind going with you,” Ethari said, and Runaan froze.

“You...what?”

Ethari chuckled, then took his hands, which had gone limp as a corpse. “I wouldn’t mind going with you,” he repeated. “To the Bay.”

“Ethari...” Runaan swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry. He licked his lips. Ethari followed the motion with his eyes, which Runaan tried valiantly to ignore. “Going together — You understand what the implication is? What follows —”

Ethari interrupted with a hand to his cheek, fingertips just brushing his lips. The air was suddenly stifling. “Yes, you idiot. Of course, I know. I was fifteen once, too.” Ethari paused a beat, then drew closer, so that his lips just barely brushed Runaan’s. “I’m asking because I want you,” he finished in a low breath, words dipping from Runaan’s ear to the pit of his stomach. 

“I —” Runaan struggled to speak, finding all words had fled him and his mind had gone blank as slate. 

“Don’t speak, love,” Ethari murmured. 

They stood together for a time, eclipsed in the moonlight, Ethari pressed in close enough that Runaan could feel his breath, his heartbeat, his  _ hands _ . 

After an age, Ethari drew away, slowly, mournfully, and pressed his forehead to Runaan’s. “I’ll meet you at midnight,” he whispered, and then he was gone.


	2. Promptu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i know the chapter isnt finished but i wrote this all in like an hour and i had to post it tonight because reasons. ill try to finish it tomorrow (and theyll try to finish to *ahem*)  
> EDIT: FINISHED

Runaan spent an obscene amount of time worrying over what to wear. To change out of his armor was a labor, but whether it was worth it for Ethari was not a question. It was merely the idea of it, what message it would send. Though Ethari had seemed acquiescent — eager, even — to the suggestion of intimacy, Runaan did not wish to be overly forward. He knew all too well the fickleness of emotions, especially when it came to partnerships so new as theirs. But, if he did not change from his armor, perhaps he would appear crass, unappreciative of the offer — which was the furthest thing from true. He did not want Ethari to think him uninterested. 

In the end, he settled for a pair of leathers, the sort one might go hunting in if they were a minimalist but was perfectly acceptable for walking and everyday labors as well. He scented himself with citrus and spice. He even went through the toil of washing and braiding his hair.

Apparently, his efforts were for naught. 

When he came to the Bay, he had not expected to find a trail of clothes leading to the edge of the water, nor had he expected a naked Ethari to be waiting already within them, nor had he expected said smith, bashful as he was, to have propped himself so comfortably in the shallows.

Even from a distance, he managed to steal Runaan’s breath away. Moonshadow eyes were well equipped to darkness, and the light of the full moon might as well have been the sun’s. From the safety of the treeline, Runaan traced the curve of his bare shoulders, their breadth so much more obvious without his smith’s pauldrons covering them. The runes along his face and neck followed the lines of his chest, traveling along his navel and below the water’s surface. Encased in the magic of the Bay, they glowed with soft light, casting reflections of a faint bluish hue across the face of the water.

Ethari, playing with a school of silverfish that followed the gentle lap of the waves, smiled faintly.

“Runaan.”

At the sound of his name, Runaan jumped, then colored when he realized who had spoken.

“I know you’re there,” Ethari said. He flashed a grin suddenly, then turned around so his back was to Runaan. “But don’t mind me,” he said over his shoulder. “You can continue hiding for however long you need to find your nerve.”

For all his training to kill, Runaan knew when to surrender, and so he picked his way through the branches and stopped at the edge of the treeline, visible, but wont to step closer than necessary to what seemed a sacred sight. 

“I was not hiding,” he muttered. “Merely observing.” 

“Oh? And what is it that you were observing?” At Runaan’s silence, Ethari laughed, turning about to face him, and, okay, Runaan was not quite ready to meet his gaze head on while he was wearing nothing but his own skin. 

“Relax, I’m only teasing,” Ethari said, and when he saw Runaan’s expression his voice softened considerably. “Take your clothes off, why don’t you?”

“I…”

“At least your boots,” Ethari interrupted. “Come now, we wouldn’t want you ruining such

pretty leather.” 

Runaan licked his lips but did as requested. Afterwards, he stood at the shore, unsure what to do next. At Ethari’s prompting, he waded just far enough into the water that it lapped at his ankles. He tensed, expecting cold, but the water was warm, tepid enough to bathe in comfortably. Pleasantly surprised, he rucked his pants to the knees and stepped in further. As he did, the runes painted across his face and chest began to glow, and a feeling, soft, euphoric, set in his bones like a dusting of gossamer. It made him want to move, to _do_ , not the demanding blood-thrill of adrenaline and battle, but a softer, headier sort of action, perhaps a slow dance, or a leisurely stroll through the garden.

“There y’are,” Ethari murmured from behind, settling broad hands on his shoulders, and so entranced was he by the new feeling he could not even be bothered to startle. Warm lips pressed against his neck, and Runaan leaned back, horns slotting around an eager head. “It feels nice, doesn’t it?”

Runaan hummed something happy and content, eyes slipping shut at the warmth of the water and the body at his back. When Ethari eased at the bindings of his shirt, he could find not even one of the protests he’d held onto so tightly for the past four months. 

After a moment of fiddling, the strings loosened enough that Ethari could slip the shirt over his head, and even through his muddled haze, he could feel the catch in Ethari’s chest at the first reveal of bare flesh. 

“You’re so lovely,” Ethari said, fingers brushing along the lines of Runaan’s chest and neck. He traced the swirling pattern along his left pectoral, pressing firmer than before. 

“Not so lovely as you,” Runaan said, finally collecting himself enough to form proper sentences. He turned, but even as Ethari’s hands were jostled from his shoulders, he caught them in his own and returned them to his flesh. He took a step further into the water, letting the water rise above his knees, uncaring of the way it soaked through his pants.

He met Ethari’s eyes, no longer afraid, and instead let all the longing of pent up weeks spill into his gaze. Ethari’s breath hitched audibly, and he swallowed, the movement bobbing ni his throat. 

“Oh, Moon Mother, I’ve waited for this,” he breathed, and that was all the warning he gave before he was pressing forward, sweeping Runaan into a kiss so hard it left him dizzy. His body realized what was happening before his brain did, and it responded emphatically, and quickly, so much so that Ethari pulled away and chuckled.

“Been a while, has it?” he asked, and Runaan flushed, ducking his head. 

Ethari caught his chin with a finger. “Hey, now,” he retorted. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know a thing or two about waiting for the proper love.” 

As he said it, Ethari colored, then blinked a few times to hide his embarrassment. “Not that there’s any reason to rush,” he amended. “I only meant —”

“Ethari,” Runaan interrupted, unable to keep the impatience from his voice. “Continue, please.”

Ethari cleared his throat. “Right.” He smiled then, bright and wild and Runaan had to be dreaming. Certainly when those satin lips touched his and strong hands traced a pattern above his loins. His fingers teased circles at his navel, running from his sternum to the dip in his belly, always moving. Their lips moved in time, the kiss deepening as the moments dragged on, and Runaan felt lightheaded with every second that passed, to the point where it was beginning to become worrisome —

Runaan broke away suddenly, gasping, for now Ethari’s hand wasn’t just teasing but _testing_. 

Even through his pants, Runaan could feel the fingers that brushed him, feeling out the shape of him, running from root to tip. 

“You’re large,” Ethari muttered, sounding as if he’d been expecting otherwise.

“I —” He gasped on a particularly enthusiastic stroke. “That — is that a bad thing?” he managed.

“Not particularly,” Ethari said against his neck. “Merely unexpected.”

Runaan struggled to think. “I feel as though I should be offended?” 

“Not at all. I’d have no problem either way. But you’re so _small_ , Runaan. All skin and bones. Sometimes I forget that you’d be larger if you ran a proper life.” 

“Alright. Definitely offended, now.” 

Ethari chuckled, and his voice turned molten. “I shall seek to remedy that, then,” he said, and then his second hand was dipping beneath his waistband and Runaan curled forward, clenching hard through his teeth.

“Easy now,” Ethari murmured, but his words were said through a smile, and he had yet to cease his touching. 

“Perhaps slow down?” Runaan suggested, hating himself even as he said it.

Ethari, bless him, shook his head slowly. “I don’t think that would help.”

“You’re a cocky bastard.”

Ethari raised his brows. “Certainly now more than other times.” He gave a pointed squeeze, and Runaan gasped, forehead falling to rest at Ethari’s chest.

His hands clenched uselessly.

Ethari let out the faintest of moans, and had he not been pressed close enough to feel the vibrations in his chest, Runaan would not have noticed.

“Moon above,” he groaned, “let me fuck you properly, Runaan.”

Runaan tried to lift his head, found he couldn’t, and let his eyes fall shut again. “I, ahm — okay,” he said eloquently. 

“You’ll need to take off your pants, then,” Ethari said with a tinge of humor. 

“Right.” 

A moment passed, and when no further actions were taken, pants-wise or otherwise, Ethari laughed. “...Alright. I’ll help you.”

Runaan blinked, coming to from a lapse in thought, when his pants were promptly pulled to his knees in a single fluid motion. He flushed, realizing that he was exposed and _Ethari was in front of him_ , but Ethari tugged him further into the water before he could protest. 

He stumbled with the pants still wrapped around his legs, but Ethari’s smile provided enough of an incentive that he didn’t care. The water engulfed him up to the chest, pleasantly warm but still chill around certain _other_ parts of his body. He had only half a moment to worry about the state of his pants and the fact that they were probably ruined forever before Ethari wrapped a hand about him and began stroking him properly. 

His mouth fell open, a sound falling from his lips that he’d never admit to in less compromising circumstances. 

Ethari pulled him closer, slotting their hips together. Against his hip, Runaan felt Ethari’s arousal pressing against him, hot and throbbing.

“Tell me how you like it, Runaan,” Ethari said against his cheek. “I only want to please you.” 

Runaan struggled for breath, and, in a sudden stroke of boldness, reached beneath the water for Ethari’s cock. In response to the dilated pupils and slackening jaw, Runaan said, “It pleases me to please you.”

Ethari kissed him, desperate, and Runaan responded readily, the harshness of their movements agitating the water. Small waves licked at the underside of his jaw before skittering away again, leaving his flesh exposed to the cooling air and a smattering of goosebumps. The changing temperature left his skin feeling electric, sensitive to the slightest touch, and even the water’s teasing press was enough to make him shudder. 

Ethari quickened his pace, and Runaan responded in kind, syncing his rhythm to his partner’s. Ethari moaned wantonly, and the sound went straight to his cock. Encouraged, Runaan deepened the kiss, but Ethari turned his head and pulled away entirely.

Runaan immediately released his grip and drew back, frowning. “What is it?”

“Moon Mother.” Ethari’s eyes were shut tight, and his chest was heaving. “Seeing you like this, feeling you. I was close.”

Runaan smiled faintly. “And you questioned my stamina.”

Ethari smiled, opening his eyes and tipped his head back in a languid motion. “And I mentioned nothing about my own.” 

Ethari’s misgivings made Runaan feel better about his own. He smiled, and Ethari smiled back. He did not know this feeling, more than the magic of the Bay. It was heady, giddiness wrapped in contentment, the want to pleasure and be pleasured in kind. Connectedness. _Intimacy._

Rather than push them away, Runaan let the feelings wash over him, empower him. “We’ll muddle through, I’m sure,” he said, and then he stepped in close once again, his hand reaching low in the water, seeking. He knew he’d found his mark when Ethari sucked in a breath and the markings on his face flared bright green. He drew closer still, pressing his hips forward into his own grip and caught hold of himself in the same hand that held Ethari. 

Ethari seemed not to understand for a moment as to where the new heat was coming from, and Runaan took sick satisfaction in watching his expression change from mild confusion to dawning comprehension to broken lust.

“ _Runaan_ ,” he groaned. “When I said I was lacking in discipline, this is not — this is certainly _not_ helping.” 

And, indeed, he could feel Ethari pulsing against his own cock, hot and swelling in his hand. Runaan, to his credit, bit his tongue and tightened his grip, quickening his pace. 

“Runaan, _slow down_. I’m going t —” Ethari’s words fell away on a groan. 

“That’s what I want,” Runaan said, his voice coming out breathless even to his own ears. “Come on, Ethari, for me.”

Ethari’s response was lost in his moan, he falling back and away, trying to escape the overbearing sensations, but Runaan chased after him, arm following the motion of his body. Ethari seemed to give up in a single instant, muscles falling lax even as his hands shot to his hair and his head tipped backwards on a moan. 

“That’s it,” Runaan murmured, and though he was not unaffected by the touch of his hands, he was far more focused on the way Ethari’s face contracted in his pleasure, his fingers moving from his hair to his horns, pulling his own head back and exposing the column of his throat. 

Unable to contain himself, for it seemed almost an invitation, Runaan leapt forward and sank his teeth into the flesh of Ethari’s shoulder. Ethari _moaned_ — Moon above, did he moan, like he’d been stabbed through the heart by a hooked blade and it had exited with a _twist_. 

Runaan could feel his release in the way the water thickened around his hand, the contractions of the cock pressed to his own, and the stuttering squeak that still vibrated through Ethari’s chest. When he’d finished, Runaan pulled his head away, slowly, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Ethari’s neck where a ring of tiny incisions were starting to color purple. 

Vaguely, he realized Ethari was saying something, but it was only when he felt the hand pushing at his own that he absorbed the words: “— stop. It’s too much. _Please_.”

Runaan blinked and relaxed his grip. 

Ethari was near to sobbing. 

He pulled back, thinking Ethari needed space, but Ethari didn’t let him, arms locking around his shoulders like he feared his leaving. Runaan stopped resisting and let himself hang still, cock still throbbing but feeling as though the mood had been lost.

In the ensuing silence, Runaan was not sure what to do. When they’d been occupied with pleasure, it had been easy to put aside inhibition. It seemed the magic had finally exited his veins, the glow dying to a near-imperceptible hum, and without the distraction, their proximity and actions seemed too _real_ , and he was left with the uncommon urge to run away. 

Luckily, Ethari felt no such turmoil. “Ai, Runaan,” he sighed. “You’re so much better than I expected.” 

Runaan cleared his throat. “I — ah, I thank you, but —”

Ethari’s hand shot forward to cover Runaan’s mouth, and Runaan was left stunned at the brazen act, to the point that he could not even bat the offending hand away.

Ethari was smirking. “Now don’t go back to that,” he said. “We’ve just seen the worst and best of each other. Without _clothes_ . You can’t possibly find anything to be embarrassed about _after_ that.”

“I...suppose not.” 

“Good. Then you’ll not mind if I invite you over for dinner tomorrow?”

“I suppose not?”

“Sans clothes?”

“...No.”

Ethari smile broadened, and his next words were certainly enough to pull Runaan from his brooding. “If you can’t beat me to the shore, you’re walking home naked.”

“Wait, _what_?” 

But Ethari was already racing for the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be clear, ethari steals runaan's clothing.


End file.
